The Travelogues
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: Anya and Dimitri left Paris that night to travel the world..:D Takes place between '26-'37. Each chapter is a different oneshot in a different place! Much better explanation inside. May never be done 'cause I'll keep adding whenever. R
1. ,,introduction,,

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**Normally I DO NOT EVER post a chapter that's nothing but background info, but this story requires a bit of explanation. (Even more so than usual.) X-)**

**First of all, I've read a lot of stories where Dimitri and Anya go back to live in St. Petersburg. But the way I figure, why would they go back there? They both wanted to _leave_ it---it's a dying city, which, by the way, is still run by Soviets. (Remember the soldier on horseback during _A Rumor In St. Petersburg_?) And as for taking the throne, uh, _hello: she gave up the crown, for him, remember? _It's not like they'd go back later and be like "yeah, we changed our minds, we'll do it now." Besides, can you _really _think of him as a tsar with a straight face? Huh-uh. They wouldn't live _there_, they'd live in _Paris_, where the only family they have is.**

**But that brings me to my next point: would they quietly settle down right away? No! They're 18 and 20, for God's sake! Think about _this_: if they left Paris on the boat and they weren't going back to St. Petersburg, then where _would_ they be going? My answer: they'd do what every young couple in history would dream of doing; they'd see the world. So that's what this is: a series of oneshots, each in a different location.**

**Finally, since, in my mind, their first child wouldn't be born until 1937 (see the explanation on the first chapter of "Somewhere Down This Road" if you haven't already), these oneshots do not take place all at once. A/D would go a few (three or four) places a year, staying a while (month or so) at each. And always returning to Paris. (I've had too much time to think about this. :-) So, these oneshots take place between 1926 and 1937. NOTE: CHAPTERS WILL BE ADDED ALL OVER THE PLACE, NOT NECCESARILY IN NUMERICAL ORDER!!**

**Okay, I think that's all the explanation you'll need. ;-) Read and enjoy, and remember, those who review get a free car. (Ha! Unlikely.) :D**

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	2. After The Beginning With You

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**Sorry for the delay again. The idea for this chapter goes out to Britney628---thanks again---who requested that I write Dimitri and Anya's first official 'date.' So here it is, as the new first chapter of the Travelogues, at the first place they dock. Where are they? Santorini, Greece. It's late 1926, obviously, right after the elopement. Have at it. Enjoy. :)**

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Greece had sounded good. _Anywhere_ had sounded good, really. As long as they were gone. As long as they had all the time in the world. Had lost time to make up for. As corny as it sounded, had each other.

They'd never really discussed it---they were just gone. Married and gone. Anywhere the _Tasha_ took them was fine. Better than fine. Staying in Paris, under royal circumastances anyway, wasn't an option. He didn't belong in that life, and she was just..._trapped_ by it. Oh, sure, they'd return of course--but not like that. And not now.

So they'd fled, and now, here they were, the unfamiliar city of Santorini looming up as they pulled into the harbor, imitating life.

Anya pulled her tangled mass of hair up into a ponytail as she walked onto the deck, catching Dimitri's eye with a little smile. What could you call that---mischevious? Nah. Or, flirtatious, maybe? Yeah, that was better. He still had to resist the urge to pinch himself every five minutes, just to make sure he wasn't gonna wake up asleep on the job in a factory. After a while, he stopped, though---if he _was_ going to wake up, he'd just as soon stay in Dreamland as long as possible.

Approaching her, Dimitri tried to talk himself into a suave state of mind. That was his biggest problem. Sure, this was _Anya_---he'd _always_ been able to talk to her. Their conversations, even the annoying ones, were never strained or awkward in the slightest. And their sudden marriage hadn't changed a bit of that. But this time, he had something romance-y to say---er, _ask_---and it was all coming out in Moron.

Dimitri would rather have been eaten by bears than admit it, but he had a crush on his wife.

She turned around to face him, still in her torn inauguration gown, and stepped forward to brush her lips to his in a soft kiss. "Hey."

_Wow._ "Hi." _Okay. Showtime. Just say it._"Listen, Anya...since we're here.... Well I mean, _now_ that we're here...."

Her blue eyes followed his. For the sake of conversation he wished she'd quit that. "Yes?"

"Well I.... I mean when we get...." He sighed. "I want to take you out."

Arms folded, a badly-hidden grin spread over Anya's face. "Now is that the same way _Rasputin_ wanted to take me out? 'Cause I kind of just solved that problem."

He rolled his eyes, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the city they were about to disembark into. "I mean..._there_, out. I...we...we never got to...you know? We should...." _Okay, stop stammering, idiot. Any time._ "We should go out. On. A date."

Anya stopped trying not to laugh, because she didn't need to laugh anymore. "Are you asking me out?" It was rhetorical, of course. She was just translating the Moron into English.

"Yeah."

The _Tasha_ was being tied to the docks now, and the ship lurched to a complete stop for the first time since Paris. The jolt was the perfect excuse for Anya to drape her arms over Dimitri's shoulders. Not that she needed one. "That sounds perfect," she replied.

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Through another round of unintelligable babbling, Dimitri had convinced a very amused Anya to go about this the _traditional_ way, meaning he would 'pick her up' outside the hotel. Meaning he'd had to get lost all afternoon while she got ready. Meaning he'd just spent two and a half hours wandering Santorini and getting lost in the _literal_ sense of the word.

Now, a colorful, sea-lined dusk was enveloping the sky, and Dimitri walked back up the cobblestone path to the boarding house. Right on time, Anya stepped out through the door, looking gorgeous as always. Little did he know the dress she wore was given to her by a local shopkeeper, an elderly seamstress who'd seen Anya admiring it and nothing less than insisted.

"Uh...wow." Dimitri blinked. "You look..."

Anya smiled. "Thank you. So do you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Er...han---you know what I mean."

"Here." Pulling his other arm from behind his back, Dimitri produced a single red rose, identical to the ones they'd exchanged back in Paris. If _that_ didn't get to her, nothing would. Around it, there was a spray of tiny wildflowers he'd found growing on a cliffside.

There were ways around being dirt broke---you just had to look for them.

"Oh, my..." Anya took the flowers and breathed in their sweet scent, giving Dimitri an impressed look. He wasn't so bad at this, for an annoying little con artist. "They're beautiful." She turned back for a moment. "Just let me put them in some water, I'll be right back."

When she returned, she took his hand and they started down the path into the town. "So, maestro, what did you have in mind?"

Dimitri grinned. "Well, first, I thought we'd---" He did a mental double-take, and stopped mid-sentence. "Oh, no no no no no. No hints. It's supposed to be a surprise." _And speaking of which.... _He checked his watch---they were already cutting it close. Tightening his grip on her hand, Dimitri broke into a run.

"Whoa---"

"Come on."

"Okay, I hope there's a hospital up ahead, 'cause whoever designed these shoes never had _jogging_ in mind---"

It was a small district, so they were at their destination almost immediately. Which, to Anya's surprise, was a small harbor. Exhanging a few words with an oarsman, Dimitri led her carefully onto a...little...Greek...gondola...thing.

"Care for a ride?" he said with a smile.

Anya couldn't find the words. "I...you...this is...."

"Yeah?"

"This is perfect! You _did_ this?"

He nodded. "I certainly didn't spend two and a half hours getting a _rose_." With a nod toward the boat guy, Dimitri caught the oar he was tossed and pushed off from the dock. The little boat rocked a moment, and slid away, gliding out into the _caldera_.

Shaking her head, Anya looked up at him as he sat opposite her. The moon reflected off of the water in gentle white patches. "I've never seen anything more beautiful."

Dimitri looked right back at her. "_I_ have," he said simply.

That was it. Her reasons to kiss him had thoroughly killed the reasons not to. Leaning forward, she did just that.

Until a _pop_ and a low gurgling sound made the moment a whole lot less romantic.

Parting, they both traded a look of sheer confusion.

"What was that?"

"I don't know---" Dimitri stopped. He knew _now_. His shoe was wet.

Looking down, he discovered that, sure enough, the bottom of the boat had sprung a leak. Water was running in faster by the second. _No wonder Dounas let me have the thing free of charge---stupid peice of---_

"Uh, Dimitri?"

He looked up, cutting off his rant. "Yeah."

"This is just a wild guess, but, uh---" She pointed down. "Aren't these _not_ supposed to do this?"

"Oh, _no_, your grace, but for _you_, we worked out a _special_ arrangement." Whenever he was about to panic, Dimitri had the stunning ability to go from sincere to sarcastic in ten seconds flat. _This is not going according to plan..._ "Uh...here." Taking off his old jacket, he balled it up and stuffed it where the water was coming in. Noticing the look she was giving him, he shrugged. "Never liked it anyway."

Just then, there was another _pop_ noise.

"How attatched are you to everything _else_ you're wearing?" Anya deadpanned.

"Now, hang on, it's not over. I can bail it out." Standing up, Dimitri took his shoe and started scooping water back into the caldera.

"I was _kidding_."

"I wasn't."

With a sigh, Anya stood up and joined him.

"I didn't say _you_ had to do it."

"I'm _helping_ you---why, Admiral, is that not allowed?"

"You're standing, it's rocking the boat."

"How do you know _you're_ not rocking the boat?"

"Because _I_ was standing _before_."

"Are you _always_ this impossible?"

"Only for you, highness." Dimitri was starting to think a Plan B would be a good idea. "All right, hand me the oar, I'll see if I can---whoa---"

_Splash!_

Apparently '_hand me the oar_' had been code for '_shove it in my general direction without looking_'. Anya didn't glance up until it was too late. "Dimitri!"

Dimitri came up sputtering next to the half-filled shell. "Thanks for the shortcut---I really didn't wanna _wait_ until the boat sank to be underwater..."

"Are you okay?"

"_I'm_ fine, but _you're_ not."

"Huh?"

Without another word, Dimitri grabbed on to the edge of the boat and tipped it toward him. With a breif shreik, Anya toppled and fell in beside him with a splash. When she surfaced, laughing and coughing, she smacked a wave of water into his face. "Why would you do that?"

"I was _helping_ you---why, is that not allowed?" he mocked with a grin. "You know, I gotta say, this 'date' thing is going pretty well. We should do it more often. Except we'll never make our dinner reservations like this."

Anya softened. "You made reservations? How...?"

"One problem at a time, your grace." Grabbing the dying boat, Dimitri began paddling back to the dock. "One problem at a time."

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**Now if THAT'S not a cute date, I don't know what is. The whole 'nothing can go right' angle just seemed perfect for them. Thanks again for the inspiration, Britney, and sorry it's a bit tardy...;D Hope you all liked it. REVIEWS PLEASE!**

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	3. The Rain In Spain Means Ice, Ice Baby

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**Takes place in 1927 BEFORE New York, hence the chapter moving. This one doesn't actually require any real explanation. Shocker. XD Obviously they're in Spain, but that doesn't mean everything's all sunsets and salsa. You'll see. Enjoy.**

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Barcelona was beautiful. A cookie-cutter cliché if there ever was one, but there was simply no other way to put it.

The hotel wasn't extravagant. Or expensive, either. It was a simple room, basically furnished, but the truly important part about it was the location.

The hotel sat built into the side of a cliff, overlooking miles of the Balearic sea. At the moment, a quick-fading, fiery sunset of reds and golds was burning on the horizon.

Anya loved everything about it. She smiled to herself and snuck another peek out the window as she unpacked her suitcase. As a child, she'd never been farther than the Crimea, and it would be a joke of mountainlike proportions to assume she'd been anywhere during her years at that run-down orphanage. So this, to her, was incomparable.

She was about to say something to that effect to Dimitri, too, when her thoughts were cut into by that sound again. That stupid dripping sound from the little crack in the roof that had been happening ever since they'd arrived. She'd been in damper conditions than that, but none had been quite this aggravating. It was enough to annoy anyone into a fit.

She tried to let it go. Dimitri, however, was already on edge from the trip. "I hate that ship. Hate. Not dislike. Hate. I'm gonna be having nightmares about that thing for a year. And, I'm sorry---_what_ was that guy's problem? I knew he was insulting me and I don't even _speak_ Spanish. I bet he overcharged us, too."

Anya put another shirt into a drawer. "I thought it was fine. I just hope someone can do something about that leak in the roof," she said lightly.

"I'll get right on it," she heard him mutter. "I mean I know it's no _palace_, after all."

_What?_ Something about that sounded...bitter. It wasn't like him. She whirled around, glaring at him. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

The sunset was gone, and outside, the wind threw the thin white curtains around with a renewed force. There was a roll of thunder. Dimitri looked at her, but he wouldn't make eye contact. "I mean I didn't realize these _awful conditions_ were that far below your _standard_," he continued. "I guess I haven't gotten into the Romanov mindset just yet."

"_Dimitri_..." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It wasn't fair. "I didn't say that!" Another boom of thunder, and a clap of lightening.

"You implied it."

"_How_ did I---"

A heavy, fast rain began to hit the ground. "No, no. Forget it."

Her anger was fast-growing. It always had been. "Maybe I will!"

"Good!"

She could only stare at him, a 'who-_are_-you' look on her face. "I can't even be in the same room as you right now," she declared, and she stormed out of the open arched doorway and down the cilffside.

"Enjoy the storm, princess!" he shouted after her. Nothing answered him but a crash of thunder.

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Ignoring the rain, the view, and the fact that she wasn't wearing shoes, Anya trudged down the path of the cliff, passing a few homes and other hotels along the way. The shore was actually a lot like Greece in that respect, but she didn't even think of that.

Her mind was racing. _Why is he being like this? Is he mad at me? What for? I should be mad at him! So has he felt like that the whole time? What is going on here?!_

The rain was falling harder now. Natives and tourists alike were beginning to clear the streets. Anya was soon the only one left, but she didn't care. She walked on.

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Dimitri tried to keep busy, continuing to put things away, but it wasn't taking his mind off of anything. Finally he gave up, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He was yelling at himself in his head, which he understood was probably not healthy.

_You. Are. An. Idiot! What did you do that for! You didn't mean any of that. She didn't do anything. You were a jerk. What's the use in unpacking---she probably doesn't even want to stay now. _

He sighed, looking up at the doorway. Which was still empty.

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After a while of railing at nobody, Anya sat down on a bench and thought things over. She cast a glance up the cliff to the room she'd left in the distance.

_He's wrong,_ she thought. _I don't care about any of that. I don't need palaces and servants---that's ridiculous. Anything he could give me is more than good enough. I love him._

And then something occured to her, and she thought over that last part again.

_I love him._

Slowly, an epiphany broadsided her, and her 'he's-a-jerk' thoughts were replaced by 'Anya,-you-idiot' ones. _I love him. So what did I do? I stormed out of there without solving anything. He didn't mean it, I know him. I didn't even see what was wrong or...._

She sighed, and stood up, heading back the way she came. _I really need to get better at this._

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Dimitri had stopped yelling at himself silently and was now _arguing_ with himself silently.

_You have to go find her. That storm is only going to get worse. God knows where she is by now. If I were her I would've caught the first boat outta here. Or---no. No. If she wants to come back tonight, she'll come back on her own. Ah, who are you kidding...._

He stood up and started for the doorway. He would find her if it took all night.

Fortunately, though, he didn't have to.

Another figure beat him to it. She was soaked, her tangled, wet hair pulled over her shoulder, leaning against the doorframe. Head tilted, a soft smile on her face, she gave him the same look a Golden Retriever would.

Thay both just looked at each other for a second. Anya was the first to speak. "So. The whole 'fighting' thing. Not really for us, is it?" she said, stepping into the room a bit.

Dimitri gave her a smile in return. He moved in her direction. "Eh, we gave it our best shot," he agreed. Just seeing her made him forget everything else. "Anya," he began, "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that."

She wanted to forget everything, too, but she wasn't about to let him off that easy. Not without solving anything---not without doing it right. "What _did_ you mean?"

"I don't know. I was annoyed with everything, not that that's an excuse, but...." He sighed. "I don't ever want you to feel like you _settled_ for me. I can't give you everything. I wish I could. I just...don't want you to be always looking over your shoulder. I don't want you to regret anything."

Anya had no idea he'd ever even _thought_ of that. She was quick to set him straight. "Dimitri. I don't care about anything like that. I _left_ all of that."

"Because you're insane?" he grinned.

She stepped forward, and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Because I _love_ you. And that's something I'm _never_ gonna regret." She paused for emphasis, then added, "Now---are you gonna kiss me, or do I have to go out there again?"

"Don't have to tell _me_ twice," he laughed, and did as he was told. Wouldn't be wise to disobey a royal.

It seemed ironic, but no joke, it was then that the storm clouds broke, and the rain over Barcelona ceased to exist.

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**Hope you liked our little trip to Spain! I was a little nervous about some of you hating me after this one (not literally of course), because I'd never actually written them getting into a serious fight before. (Well, except right before the war.) But I had to do this as the reason why they **_**don't**_** fight, you see? Plus, it was fun. :D Next one coming soon!**


	4. New York, New York

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**Okay, normally, I don't like stories where they, like, meet famous people or anything. I'll say that right now. But for just this one, I made a small exception. I figured it would actually be pretty likely to happen in this case. WARNING: VERY IMPORTANT: LOOK UP THE ALGONQUIN ROUNDTABLE ON WIKIPEDIA IF YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW ABOUT IT. IF YOU DON'T, PREPARE TO BE CONFUSED. You've been fairly warned. Anyway. A/D arrive in the Big Apple and meet a group of very literary minds... ;D Takes place 1927. Please review. Enjoy.**

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As the boat pulled for the harbor, a handful of other ships and a dock or two pronounced themselves from out of the fog, but none of them were what she was waiting for.

Anya sat there gazing out of the porthole from the minute the coast came into view. There was no way she was going to miss a once-in-a-lifetime sight like this.

After a while, something became visible in the distance, and she could barely even make it out, but she knew what it was. Instantly she was on her feet, and ran over to where Dimitri lay sleeping.

"Dimitri! Get up! Come with me!" She grabbed his shoulder and shook him until he rolled over.

He squinted up at her, avoiding light at all costs. Sure, it was morning, but they were headed to _New York_, not _the sun_.

"Are we in any immediate danger?" he groaned.

"Not at all."

"Any freaks with relequaries out there?"

Hands on her hips, eyes rolling; "Of course not."

"Then I can take a rain check." And he rolled back over.

But Anya wouldn't have any of it---she was too excited. "_Dimitri_! Hurry! We're gonna _miss_ it," she insisted, grabbing his arm and wrenching him to his feet.

"Ah, jeez---"

"Come on!"

"Ow! Can you just---"

Ignoring his grumbling, Anya pulled Dimitri behind her out of the cabin, up the stairs, and across the deck, all the way up to the railing.

"We almost missed it!"

Dimitri rubbed his eyes. "If you mean sleep, then yeah."

She stayed fixed on the horizon, and within seconds, she pointed to the docks with a huge grin on her face. Dimitri looked, and sure enough, she was right.

Right on cue, the Statue of Liberty emerged from the fog. Behind it was the entire skyline of New York.

Anya turned and beamed at him. "See? Isn't it exactly like I said it would be?"

Dimitri wasn't complaining, not anymore. "It's definitely a sight worth waking up for," he agreed, and he put an arm around her shoulders. A soft grin appeared on his face. "Welcome to New York, your highness."

Her first impulse would've been to kiss him, but her second idea involved a bit more gloating, so she went with that one first. "Aren't you glad I dragged you up here?" she grinned.

"Sure." It was easier to just go along with it. "Absolutely."

"You would have slept right through it."

"Probably."

"Our first sight of America, and you'd have been in there hiding from daylight."

He was laughing now. "Look, I officially give you all the credit, okay? You win."

"_Thank_ you." _Now_ she kissed him. After that, though, she took on a semi-frustrated look. "What was the name of the hotel again?"

Dimitri took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and found the answer, just as the boat hitched to a stop.

"The Algonquin."

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"Ah, sir, madam, good evening. I hope you're enjoying your stay at the Algonquin Hotel."

"Yes, thank you." Anya adjusted the pin in her hair and gave the maitre'd a polite smile. "Could we get a table for two please?"

"Well," the man said, flipping through a book of reservations, "it seem as though every table is occupied this evening." But then he leaned in closer, smiling as if he had a secret or something. "Not to worry, your grace," he whispered. "We can seat you both at our best table immediately---it's no trouble."

The maitre'd headed off, and Anya turned to Dimitri. "Wow. By now the 'your grace' thing sounds wierd when it's _not_ coming from you."

He held up a hand. "Question."

"Yes?"

"Did your grandmother know the name of where we were staying?"

Anya thought about it, and remembered telling her. Which of course meant she'd called ahead. Leave it to Marie to ensure the best service.

She nodded. "That would be why he knows," she confirmed.

"Great," was his sarcastic reply. "We'll have to leave a bigger tip now."

She had just enough time to smack his arm before the maitre'd reappeared.

"Right this way, please."

Dimitri choked back a laugh as he and Anya followed the guy across the dining room. He led them to a big circular table, bigger in fact than any of the other tables in the restaurant. It was crowded already, four or five fashionable New Yorkers around it, but the maitre'd pulled up two more chairs.

"Pardon me, gentlemen, ladies," he said, addressing the table, "I, uh, I hope you don't mind?"

A man on the left with slicked-back hair gave the attendant a smile. "I've no problem with a full house, but we all know I'm not the elected speaker here." He turned to a thin woman across from him with short dark hair.

"Because no one would dare vote for you," she retorted, and her voice was cool, steady. She ran her smoky eyes up the new arrivals. "The more, the merrier, right gents?" Apparently she approved.

"Very good," the maitre'd smiled, and arranged two more place settings. When the time came where proper etiquette demanded he introduce them, he looked at Anya with a sheepish expression. "Uh.... Shall I?"

To tell people or not to tell people. The eternal question. She was used to it. "Go ahead."

The maitre'd looked relieved to be able to properly fulfill his duties. Straightening up, he announced to the table, "It's my pleasure to introduce the Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia and her escort." Satisfied, he hurried off.

Dimitri shot Anya a look. "_Escort_?" he whispered.

"Grandmama probably forgot to mention you," she whispered back. "Just let it go. Besides, do you _really_ want these people to know what your profession was?"

"Good point." He pulled out her chair and took his own, and no sooner did they sit down than the eyes of the whole group were upon them.

"Well," said the man from before. "I have to admit the rumors about you seem to have made it to the States. I consider myself honored." He grinned a sly grin. "Allow me to introduce myself. Robert Benchley. And this here---" now he gestured to each of his companions--- "is George Kaufman, Edna Ferber, Heywood Broun, and the fabulous miss Dorothy Parker."

"Charmed, I'm sure," the woman added dryly. She was the dark-haired one who'd spoken earlier. "So." The cigarette that trailed between her fingers dropped a few ashes on the table. "You're Nicholas' daughter?"

Anya picked up her menu. "Yes, I am."

Benchley leaned forward a bit in Dimitri's direction. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Dimitri."

"Well. Good to meet you both. It's been getting dull around here lately---we were beginning to run out of things to talk about."

"Oh, come off it, Rob," George interjected. "All the riches of Rockefeller couldn't shut you up."

"True enough," Benchley laughed, "but before you call me out I suggest you invest in a mirror."

Edna rolled her eyes. "Ignore them," she said. "So, you two are..."

"Married."

That got Dororthy's attention. She swiveled her head around and gave them a good once-over. "Recently?"

"Last year," Dimitri supplied.

"Happily?"

"Of course. Very," Anya answered.

"Enjoy it." Dorothy gave them a worldy look. "Do forgive me. A husband and a few affairs later and I find myself so cynical they won't let me into California."

"Don't be self-depricating, Dot," Benchley cut in. "You're only as bitter as a good cup of coffee."

Heywood spoke up now. "Speaking of coffee, have you read the paper yet today?"

"How does the word 'coffee' always remind you of the paper?"

They continued back and forth, and Anya and Dimitri exchanged an amused glance and a small smile as a waiter approached. If dinner was any indication of the city outside, then New York was definitely an interesting place.

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**So that's the New York one. They end up being seated with the famous writers of the famous Algonquin Round Table. Figured it was realistic because only the most prestigious guests wre allowed the openings at the Roundtable. One seating shortage, and there you go. Proof that I read too much Parker. XD Next oneshot ASAP, I promise.**


	5. Dublin The Adventure

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**Now they're in Dublin, Ireland. Takes place in 1928. Not much for me to say about it, just read it for yourself. Let me know what you liked!**

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"I hope you're better at this than last time."

"Shut up."

Anya stopped talking, but the smug look stayed on her face. She crossed her arms and tried not to laugh as they waited for Mr. O'Rourke to unhitch the horses.

Dimitri knew what she was thinking. "That horse _hated _me, okay? I was doing _fine_. He _stopped. _I couldn't _help_ flying off at that point."

"Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"No, no," she sputtered. "I believe you."

"Oh yeah?" Dimitri didn't buy it for a second. He cast a quick glance over the lush green forests and hills all around them, and then came up with an idea. "How about a race, then. I'll bet you you can't go _half_ as far as I can."

Anya flipped a section of hair out of her eyes and looked him up and down. "Oh, so is that a _challenge_, kitchen boy?"

"I believe it _is_, princess," he smirked.

"You're _on_."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Another voice cut into the session, and unlike the other two it actually had a new word to add to the mix. "All right, lass, I'll give you Old Jenny here," said the farmhand. "Just 'ave 'er back by six-'o'-clock or the rental fee doubles."

"Thanks," Anya told him, taking the grey horse's reigns.

"She's a gentle lass, but she's even faster than most'a the males."

Anya gave Dimitri a look that seemed to say 'won't-_this_-be-interesting.' As she climbed up on the saddle, Dimitri turned to Mr. O'Rourke. "And...."

He took the hint. "For _you_ sir, we've got Maribel here." O'Rourke tugged on the reigns of a tall black horse, and she came forward.

"She fast?"

"Oh, absolutely." But then O'Rourke leaned in as if he didn't want the horse to hear him. "Bit stubborn, though."

"Ha!" This time it was Anya who spoke. "Who does that sound like?"

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk." Dimitri dug a handful of cash from his pocket, counted it, and stuffed it in O'Rourke's hand. "You know what? I'll take her. Keep the change."

"Much obliged, sir." He turned around and headed back across the field to his house, so he wouldn't realize it was only a five-cent tip until he got there.

"You ready?" Dimitri pulled himself up onto the saddle and tightened the reigns.

"Readier than you are."

"Okay..." He realized then that one of the stirrups was caught. "Ah, hang on, let me just..."

But he didn't get to finish that sentence, though, because he heard Anya yell "See ya!" followed by a clattering of hooves. He looked up, and all that was left of her was a cloud of dust.

"Cheater!" He yelled. He tugged on the reigns. "Yah!"

Maribel blinked. She didn't move.

Dimitri tried again. "Giddyup!"

Still the mare wouldn't budge.

He sighed. "Come on---_move_ it, will ya?"

Out of nowhere Maribel lurched forward and galloped off at a million miles an hour. Dimitri had to lean forward and get a better grip on the reigns just to keep from falling off. "'Atta girl," he said once he could breathe. "Just no stopping or anything."

Both horses were deep into the forest now, and trees whizzed by in every direction. In seconds, Anya and Old Jenny became visible in the distance, getting closer by the instant. When Anya heard the sound of another set of hooves coming up behind her, she turned around with a look of surprise.

By now the horses were neck-and-neck. "Thought you could beat me, huh?" Dimitri shouted over the noise.

"_Thought_?" Anya shouted back. "I _know_!" With that, she gave Jenny's reigns a deft flick and the mare doubled her pace, kicking up grass and dust in her wake.

Dimitri followed. "That's what _you_ think, princess!" _Ha! And the old man said this horse was stubborn. Nothing I can't handle._

The two of them thundered through the clearing in the trees and raced for the edge of the forest, both horses going their limit. Rapidly the trees fell away, and the sight of a deep, wide river rose up in the foreground. It stretched from left to right as far as the eye could see, and it was right in their path.

Dimitri gave Maribel's reigns a tug to the right and the horse followed, taking the right path to avoid the water. He waited to hear the second set of hoofbeats behind him, and when he didn't, he slowed Maribel down. "Whoa, girl."

He listened for a second, and then he heard it. "Dimitri!"

He didn't waste any time. Right that second, he directed his horse back the way he came and anlong the former path, going faster than he'd been before. Up ahead, Anya's horse was still headed for the river at full speed.

"Can't you turn her?" He shouted when he caught up. The river was coming up fast.

"She won't listen!"

Dimitri didn't need to hear anything else. He weighed the options: either the horse stops and sends her flying, or they both end up underwater. Suddenly he knew what to do. "You're gonna have to switch!"

Now she was really panicked. "_What?_"

Dimitri didn't answer. Instead he pulled back on the reigns, and Maribel slowed a bit, falling behind the others. Just as quickly he sped her up again, coming around Old Jenny from the other side.

He only had a second to prepare. He didn't want to think about it too much---that kind of thing was what usually screwed him up. This time, he couldn't afford it.

The river was only a few yards away now. It was now or never. At just the right instant, Dimitri let go of the reigns. He was side-by-side with Anya, and he grabbed her hand with one hand and her waist with the other.

"Jump!"

She did, landing in front of him---something Maribel was probably not thrilled about, but she kept on galloping. Dimitri grabbed ahold of the reigns again and veered left as hard as he could. The horse just barely missed the river. Behind them there was a loud splash, followed by a horse's desperate whinny.

It was pretty clear Maribel was exhausted, and Dimitri let her slow to a stop, turning around to face the water.

Anya turned around at looked at him with complete, fascinated gratitude. "How did you know that would work?"

He shrugged. "I didn't."

She ignored that. "Thank you," she said quietly. She leaned in, a hand on his shoulder, and he knew she was about to kiss him, when the other horse sounded again in the background. Anya pulled away and looked toward the river, giving Dimitri one more reason to hate the animal kingdom.

"Do you think she can swim?" Anya asked, concerned.

They both looked, and after a moment, Old Jenny's head became visible downriver, bobbing toward the shore. She tossed her mane around a few times to shoo away the sparrows that kept trying to land on her face.

"Oh, yeah," Dimitri confirmed. "I think she's got it covered."

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**:D I liked how this one turned out---hope you did. Remeber to review...details are a girl's best friend! (Or was that diamonds...?) XD **


	6. Better Get Better, Boyo

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**Hey people. Sorry for the on-off update spasms, but I keep getting other awesome story ideas that are all screaming "me first!" at the moment. As we (er, I) speak, I'm working on a concept that just hit me last night for a "Taking The Money" sequel. ANYWAY. (Sighs.) I'm going to start giving them more locations in Europe than anything else, because as cool as the Sphinx may be, there are just some places that wouldn't be realistic for them to go. (I realized that upon going over my own wannabe-travel list and being totally unable to picture them in half the places on it.) So to start, I'm serving up another chapter in the beautiful Ireland, this time in Belfast (still 1928). But you'll soon see that the scenery isn't the first thing on their minds.... I'm shutting up now. Go on.**

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Two days. The amount of time it had taken her to convince him to take another train. Six hours. The amount of time they'd been _on_ that train, headed for Belfast. Nine thousand, seven hundred and forty-two. The number of times Dimitri had complained, which ended abruptly due to: One. The number of tall, burly passengers who'd offered to throw him off.

Looking past where Anya sat, still asleep a good two hours after laughing hysterically at the Thug Incident, he saw a sign out the window that indicated they were close to their new destination.

Dimitri's eyes fell from the window to Anya's sleeping face, and he smiled despite himself. Reaching over, he brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes, and she sighed. Even asleep, she seemed to know he was there.

He watched her for a second, not only because she was beautiful but because the thought of this Imperial Daughter on a dump of a train like this, by _choice_, was enough to amuse _anyone_. He knew she'd want to see this, though. For some reason she loved seeing each new city as they entered it. Who knew what that was about.

He hated to wake her, but he did. Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking her arm a little. "Anya. Hey."

Her eyelashes took longer to part than usual; her eyelids heavier. She barely opened her eyes, and they didn't stay that way for long. "Hmm?"

Dimitri nodded toward the window. "We're there. Well, almost."

To his surprise, Anya just gave a weak nod, and drifted off again. He had no clue why, but this was out-of-character enough to bother him, and it did.

Moving over next to her, he picked up her hand, and it was cold as ice. Instantly he was taking off his jacket. "You're freezing."

"Mmhm," was all she could manage this time. He covered her up.

Dimitri had an idea what was wrong, and knew a surefire way to prove it. "Anya. Talk to me."

"Hi," she croaked, and she sounded dazed; out-of-sorts. Her voice could barely be heard.

He knew Anya, and for her to be unable to talk meant that something was definitely wrong. Worry filled him even though his sane mind knew better, because he was right. Then again, his sane mind hardly ever had a say in anything. "You're sick," he confirmed.

Consciousness, she could give up. Credit, however, Anya was not willing to let go of. "No I'm not," she rasped, the weak statement contradicting itself. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but she couldn't see him. She couldn't even tell if she was awake or not.

Dimitri put his arm around her and pulled her close to him, her head against his chest, and he could tell she was shivering. She was awake just long enough to hear him say "Yes you are."

As she slipped back away, he laid a hand on her forehead. There was no need to tell her, he decided, that she had a high fever. She was burning up, and he was already concerned enough for the both of them.

"Dimitri?" she whispered suddenly.

"Yeah?"

That was it. He couldn't be sure if she'd actually had something to say or if she just wanted to know if he was there. Either way, she was out again. He made a mental note to use this in his defense the next time she brought up his sleeping habits.

"It's all right," he answered, the train hitching to a stop. He knew she wouldn't hear him, but he kept talking anyway. Something in him felt like he _had_ to, for both of them. "I'll get us a place to stay, we'll be seeing the sights in no time. You'll be fine."

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Cause and effect. He found a boarding house---they let him have a room right away. He waited an hour---nothing changed. He called the hospital---they told him it was the common flu, which he understood was more dangerous than it sounded. He debated carrying her there anyway---that would've done no good at all.

Cause: Anya was sick. Effect: Dimitri was stressed out of his mind.

He hated that there was nothing he could do for her. Some things hadn't changed.

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_"Dimitri! Dimitri! Boy, if you don't come here this very instant I swear---"_

_At precisely that second, the newly-ten-year-old skidded into place with dirt on his clothes, dust in his hair, and zero respect for the rules. He gazed up at Kharitonov with his best fake smile---he was getting better at them daily._

_Kharitonov wasted no more time. There would be time to lecture the boy later. "The youngest of the Grand Duchesses is ill this morning. You are to stay here and assist in whatever way you can. I do not want to see you set a foot outside of this kitchen, do you understand?"_

_But Dimitri didn't. His thoughts were with his friend. "I can help her!" he suddenly volunteered, an act which was unheard of. "I can take her what she needs. Let me do it."_

_"Ha!" Kharitonov scoffed. "You know that only the older servants tend personally to the Imperial Family. No. You will stay here as ordered."_

_"But I wanna help!"_

_"No! End of discussion." As Kharitonov turned to leave, he muttered, "If _I_ were His Highness the Tsar I would have dismissed you at the first opportunity, you insolent brat."_

_Glaring at the head cook's retreating form, Dimitri kicked over an empty pot in frustration. One day, he vowed, he would answer to no one. He would be where he knew he was needed; would be there for those that counted on him. He would make everything better, and nothing would ever be this way again._

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The window was open, and the mild Irish air drifted in without a noise. Anya lay just where he'd left her, still sleeping, wrapped in blankets with a cool washcloth on her forehead.

He'd done what he could, and now there was nothing left to do. He couldn't change the past, but either way, he was there for her now. _I'm not going anywhere, _he told her silently. _I'll be right here, as long as you need me, I'm here._ There would be no more mistakes, he vowed it.

After another hour of sitting in the chair across from her, watching for God knows what, Dimitri felt his own eyes starting to drop, and finally he lay down beside her, waiting for morning to bring an improvement along with it.

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The little boy ahead of her turned, beckoning her to follow him. Anya's skirt swirled about her as she trailed behind the boy up the path, which was in Ireland for some reason, and eventually the boy approached his father, who stooped down to lift him high into the air. Anya followed, for it was her father, too.

He hugged her, kissed her forehead, told her she would be all right. It was hard to understand what he meant by that, but she shrugged it off. Everything was so beautiful, and the countryside was painted in colors she'd never seen before....

She couldn't quite make heads or tails of why she was there, but she felt cold, and then hot, and then she said something about this to her father. He told her to go back to sleep, which was funny, since she'd never _been_ asleep---she'd been picking wildflowers with Tatiana, and resumed doing so, when suddenly Tatiana vanished....

The whole world drained of its brilliant color, just like that, and then it faded away completely, over what seemed like hours, and probably was. Anya, who could have sworn her eyes were open already, felt them open again, but for real this time.

Sunlight was peeking in for the first time that day through the curtains, and it took Anya a moment or two to remember where she was. _Oh yeah. Belfast._

Sitting up, she threw off the cloth from her forehead, as well as the thick heap of blankets that had been piled on top of her, and in doing so she accidentally whacked Dimitri in the stomach.

_How is it that I'm always doing that?_

He groaned, and started to sit up, remembering the day before, if only barely. For some reason his head felt like it wasn't attatched.

"Sorry," Anya said. "I honestly don't know why you come within ten feet of me without serious padding anymore."

"Yeah, well, I never learn, do I," he managed, his voice strained. She could tell instantly, but he went on. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, that's the thing," she started. "I feel fine. I remember feeling awful on the train yesterday, and then I remember a bunch of really wierd stuff that didn't even happen..."

"From the fever," Dimitri supplied.

"---Right, but then I don't remember how I got here. Of course, I think I've got a pretty good guess." Anya looked down a second, and then she looked back into his eyes with that little grin of hers.

"I did what I had to do. It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is." She leaned over to hug him, but the instant she touched him, she was surprised at how cold he was. "Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_."

Backing off, she brushed his hair aside and put a hand to his forehead. He wasn't on fire, but he certainly had a fever. "You are _not_ fine, you're sick."

Dimitri started to get up, but wasn't very succesful---Anya had his arm. "Ha! No. I am _not_ sick."

"Dimitri."

"I'm fine! I'm telling you, it's no big deal." Even as he said this his eyes wouldn't stay open, and what was meant to be a reassurance came out as a pathetic squawk.

Anya was already laying him back against the pillows, and he wasn't putting up much of a protest. "You need to rest. Come on now."

"We have to go see the...the...what is it they have in Belfast?" Sleep was already taking back ahold of him.

"That can wait," Anya told him. He wouldn't have heard her, though---he was already out. _So much for 'I'm fine,'_ she thought with a smile, watching him.

She propped herself up on one elbow and leaned against her pillow, knowing subconsciously that this was the only time she could get away with just watching him like this. It wasn't like she'd planned to or anything, but she found herself studying his face as he slept. He looked so strong to her, so safe---but there was something else there, too. Another smile crossed her face as she realized what it was. He looked ten. At that moment, she knew part of her would forever be eight.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself or realize what she was doing, Anya was stroking his hair, and whispering, softly, "_Spaht' s'yey-chas, Mitja. Fs'yeh budoh beet' harasho v'ootra_."

_Sleep now, Mitja. All will be well in the morning_.

And then she gasped.

"Oh, my _God_."

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_"Mommy, I promise I'm all better. Really I am! Can't I go play tomorrow?"_

_"Shh, shh shh, my little one," Alexandra cooed, stroking her youngest daughter's hair back. The girl was already drifting off to sleep. "Spaht' s'yey-chas, maya daragaya dohchka." My dear daughter. "Fs'yeh budoh beet' harasho v'ootra."_

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"Oh, my God. I'm my mother."

But then Anya smiled to herself. After all, was that really so bad?

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Three days, as it turned out, went by like nothing. Clouds, though---well, _they_ moved a lot faster.

"Ooh! That one! Right there!" Anya pointed straight up from where she lay in the lush Irish grass.

"Where?"

"There! There!"

Dimitri squinted up at the expanse of powder-blue above them, trying to make out the shape of the cloud in question. "It's a...fish?"

"A _fish_? _That's _the best you can do?" Laughing, she smacked his arm. "No, it looks like a sailboat."

"Oh yeah? Is that so? Who says?"

"I do."

"Okay, fine. If that one's a sailboat, then that one's a cruise ship, how 'bout _that_."

"_How_. _How_ do you see a cruise ship in that? I'd love to know."

"Probably just as much as I'd love to know how _that_ thing is a sailboat."

"Can you stop arguing with me?"

"Who says I'm the one arguing...?"

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**Zoom out, fade to black, end credits, ha ha ha. For the record, I am the only person I know who can find inspiration in a sore throat and a calendar of Ireland. Just one more way I'm bizzare and proud of it. XD This one was kind of sappy (blame the cold), so I threw in bits here and there that would sort of counteract that, and I think it turned out nice. (Haven't we **_**all**_** had an 'oh-God-I'm-my-mother' moment at one point or another?) ;D Hope you enjoyed, of course I'll never know unless you REVIEW me...;D**

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	7. That's Ohana

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**'Kay, here's the next one. Sorry about the all the chapter switching---I'm kind of making the order up as I write 'em. (Insert sheepish grin here.) XD If you're gonna review (which I HOPE so,) then just stick one on any chapter you can. Bear with me. ;D Anyway, this is important: this oneshot takes place the next day after the end of my story "Signed, Sealed, Delivered." The day after her 21st birthday, when he made it home just barely in time. I know it's one of my older ones, but if you've read it you'll definitely 'get' the beginning of this one better than if you hadn't. I'm not giving anything away (yeah, right), but I **_**will**_** say that this is definitely going to be fun. :D Please R&R. Enjoy!**

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"Pack."

Startled, Anya dropped the laundry and turned around to confront the voice behind her. It was a voice she knew well, and also a voice that wasn't supposed to be back for another half-hour.

Dimitri stood there in the doorway with a conspiratory smile on his face, but he wasn't holding the breakfast he'd promised to come back with. Instead he looked like he had a plan, which may or may not have been a good thing. Or a _constructive_ thing, anyway.

Anya gave him a wide-eyed look. "What?"

"Pack," he repeated, striding into the room and throwing open a closet door. He started tossing clothes into the room behind him, and she had to duck to avoid becoming a coat rack.

"Where are we going?"

It was then that Dimitri stopped and turned around to face her, and he was grinning even more than before. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out what looked like two tickets, and held them up in front of her.

"How does Hawaii sound?"

_Did he just say what I think he said?_ Anya's jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and her voice took on a new level of enthusiasm she hadn't seen before. If that was even possible. "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

Dimitri nodded.

"No!" She shreiked in disbelief.

"Yes!"

"Aaahh!" She sprang forward and threw her arms around him, almost sending him backwards. He laughed.

"Excited?"

"Definitely!"

He dragged a couple of suitcases out of the bottom of the closet. "Good, 'cause that's why I almost didn't make it yesterday."

Now Anya was twice as surprised. "What?" She seemed to have been saying that a lot in the last five minutes.

"That was where I went. That trip I took. An old friend of mine in Luxembourg had two tickets he wasn't going to use, so when Vlad heard from him, he let him know, one thing led to another, and there you go. He said the only way I could take 'em was if I went up there to get 'em myself, so I went. I was supposed to be back sooner than I was but...." He shrugged. "You get the idea."

Anya looked at him with something else in her eyes now. "You did this for _me_?"

Dimitri stuffed another random article of clothing into a suitcase. "Consider it a birthday present."

"Plus everything you sent with Vlad? The flowers, that letter, this---?" She held up her wrist, indicating the bracelet she hadn't taken off yet.

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal. "Well, I couldn't just _not_ have anything _and_ not show up."

Anya came toward him and took the suitcase out of his hands. Now he _had_ to look at her. "You do realize," she said, "that you are very possibly the sweetest guy on the planet right now?"

"Don't say _that_," he groaned in mock-objection. "Stuff like that can ruin a perfectly good bad reputation."

"I think you can take it," she grinned, and she kissed him, not waiting any longer.

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Leis were draped all over the resort. Over the doorways, on all the tourists and locals; there was even one around Pooka's neck, and he kept tripping over it. There wasn't a single space that wasn't adorned with the strands of exotic flowers.

Anya had found hers on her pillow that afternoon, and she wore it around her neck now on the way to dinner. It looked out-of-place next to her necklace, but in a good way.

She'd tried to get Dimitri to wear his, but all that had gotten out of him was a "No." And the argument that even Pooka was wearing one didn't do anything for her case.

The island was beautiful, though. They were on Oahu, and everything about it was perfect. The sunset was beautiful, the ocean was amazing, the locals were friendly; even the air seemed calmer. Everything about Hawaii seemed to say 'relax.'

Even Dimitri seemed effected by it. Or by her. He stared at her when she came out of the cabana, hair and skirt flowing in the breeze, eyes matching the ocean, a fresh flower tucked in her hair.

She noticed him looking at her that way. "What?" she smiled, already knowing the answer.

He wasn't going to lie. "You." Nothing on earth could wipe the smile off his face.

"Well." She took his hand, pausing a minute before they headed down to the festivities. "Don't _you_ have a way with words." Gradually they made their way down.

"Aloha, friends," said a dark-haired man at the makeshift entrance to the outdoor restaurant. "We dine by the sunset, tonight, I see. How are you enjoying the island?"

"Oh, it's great," Anya gushed. "It really is."

"Wonderful. If you'll come with me, we have an open table this way."

The two of them followed the guy through the sand and took their seats at a small table with a candle at the center. He left them with two menus and a smile, and they were alone.

"Wow," Anya said over the dull sounds of the other patrons' discussions. "Can you _believe_ this place?"

Dimitri opened his menu and gave her a smile. "Did you ever imagine you'd be here?"

"Never." She shook her head for emphasis.

As they paroused the array of interesting items on the menu, a voice rose up from the crowd and somehow made its way to both of them at the same time. It was loud, that was why, but it was a _familiar_ kind of loud.

They both glanced up and traded an 'are-you-hearing-what-I'm-hearing' look. After a second, they realized they were.

At the same time, like they had ESP or something, they both hid behind their menus. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," Dimitri hissed.

"How is it possible that she's here at the same time we are?" Anya whispered back.

"Either it's a really strange coincidence or Marie sent us a babysitter."

"Not that loud! She'll---"

But it was too late. "Anastasia! Dimitri! Is that you! Oh, goodness, it _is_ you!" the voice cried, coming closer.

"---hear you," Anya finished, uselessly.

They both put down their menus and put on 'nice-to-see-you' smiles. "Hey, Sophie," Dimitri greeted.

Anya joined in. "What are you doing here?"

Sophie, draped in five or ten loops of flowers, wasted no time in pulling up a chair and beginning the talking for which there was no 'off' button. "I'm on vacation! Well, technically it's not a proper _vacation_, I mean I've never had a proper _job_, but you know what I mean of course. Oh, can you imagine! The three of us on holiday together. Oh, Anastasia, this is going to be _just_ like the family summers in Livadia. I've got _so_ many wonderful places I was going to see--you two should come along! I insist on it! Oh, just look at the two of you here, together. Honestly, Dimitri, I can still remember when you and Vladimir came up for a visit when you were just twelve or thirteen---"

"---Hey, heyheyheyhey, look over there, at the...." That was enough of that subject for Dimitri. "The...flower...thing."

Sophie was oblivious, while Anya was just trying not to laugh. He managed to catch her mouthing the word "Smooth."

"Oh, yes, it's gorgeous," Sophie said, unphased. "Oh! Have you two been over to the bonfire yet?"

"Uh, no, no, not yet."

"Well then come on!" She grabbed one of each of their hands, rose up from her chair, and pulled them after her across the sand. They could leave Paris, but apparently _Paris_ wasn't leaving _them_ without a fight.

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**Ha! Love that. Sophie's like the lovable but annoying houseguest that just won't leave. Getaway yes, but so much for romantic! It's like **_**Three's Company**_**. :D Hope you had fun with this. Next one on the way.**


	8. Of Sharks And Sheilas

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**Back to normal oneshots now, not like the "John And Yoko"/"USSR" deal. Takes place 1929. They'd hit Port Headland, Australia on their way back from her post-birthday trip to Hawaii. Please review!! Oh, and Anya mentions a little "family story"---that actually happened, so you know. (I can't make this stuff up! Well, I _can_, but....) Author shutting up now. :D**

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Somewhere between Hawaii and Paris a decision had been reached that the trip wasn't over. Somewhere between ocean and sky stretched the coast of Australia. As a result, somewhere between the surf and the city, a blanket was spread out on the sand of Eighty Mile Beach, and two people lay on it, side by side, staring up at the sky.

Anya was the first to speak in a long, long time. She half expected her husband beside her to be asleep---he was scarcely twenty-three, but he slept like an eighty-year-old. "Isn't it great out here?" she said, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

Dimitri surprised her by being very much awake---then again, he was constantly surprising her, one way or another. "I would definitely take this over St. Petersburg." Which of course meant that he agreed.

"And the tide," she continued, referring to the calm sound of the ocean lapping back and forth over the sand. "I wish it would just go on forever."

As if they'd rehearsed it, they both sat up at that moment and looked out into the sea. After a few seconds Dimitri turned to face her.

"Why don't we try it out?"

Averting her gaze from the view to look at him, Anya pretended not to know what he was talking about. "Huh?"

Dimitri nodded toward the water. "You wanna go for a swim?"

Anya pulled her hair to the side and added another coat of suntan lotion to the back of her neck, doing whatever she could to avoid the idea. "It's probably too cold," she reasoned, shaking her head.

"Cold? Nah, you could boil an egg in that water. C'mon."

Still she resisted. "Maybe later." _In a pool, with four walls and a floor._

Dimitri knew her better than he knew himself, and he knew what she was up to. He sent her a sideways glance, and a grin came over his face. "You don't wanna go at all," he observed.

"It's not _that_. It's just that...well...."

"Yes?"

Anya rolled her eyes, still hating this story. "When I was little, I got carried out to sea at Livadia and Papa pulled me back in, but I was five and stupid and I thought it was King Neptune, okay?" She sounded exasperated. "I don't swim in the ocean."

"You're afraid of the water!" he realized, trying to be sensitive by not cracking up at the five-year-old story.

Anya picked up a book from beside her. "I don't swim in the ocean," she repeated, obviously preferring to phrase it that way.

"All right," Dimitri said, and it appeared he was leaving it at that. But far from it. He stood up from the sand, pulled his shirt off, and held his hand out to her. "Come on."

She looked up from her book, confused. "Come on where?"

"Out there. You're gonna do this right."

"Dimitri, I don't think---"

"Who was the last person you tried this with?"

Anya squinted as she thought back to her last family vacation. "Olga," she answered.

"There's your problem---you can't get over that kind of stuff with siblings. They'll never let you forget it."

She gave him a playful glare. "Oh yeah? How would _you_ know?"

"I make it my business, remember?" he said with a smile. "Now come on."

Glancing from him to the shore and back again, "Are you sure?" was all she could think to say.

"I'm positive. I'll be right there with you. If anyone wants to drag you back to their undersea kingdom, they'll have to go through me first."

Anya took his hand and pulled herself up, muttering, "I am so gonna wish I never told you that story."

"Probably."

Adjusting the strap of her bathing suit---not something she would have chosen back home, but it got the job done---she stared out into the ocean as she got closer and closer to it. By the time the water lapped up over her ankles, she felt a chicken-out coming on.

"No. Nope. Huh-uh." She threw her hands in the air and turned around. "I can't do this."

But Dimitri was right on her tail. He wouldn't let her give up that easily---that would be like _him_ giving up by extension. "Yes you can. Besides, how will you ever know if you don't try?"

Her reply was obstinate. "I already know. That result was in a long time ago."

Dimitri sighed. "That's it."

Anya didn't turn around, so when he picked her up it was more than a little startling not to be touching the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"Hey, nice shreik, by the way. A little higher and only dogs would be able to hear you." He was walking into the water.

"Dimitri!"

"Yep?"

"Put me down!"

"Nope."

Anya wasn't even bothering to _try_ not to laugh hysterically. "If I drown---"

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"---you will be sorry. Do you hear me? Sorry!"

"I can live with that," he joked.

"What if there's sharks out here?"

Dimitri was having fun with this. "Ah, they're harmless. Like big deadly kittens. Just punch 'em in the face, and you'll be fine."

"What?!"

"I'm _kidding_. Jeez. Give me a _little_ credit." Right about then, he stopped walking, mostly because walking couldn't be done anymore. "Hey. Guess what."

Anya looked at him. "What?"

Instead of answering her, he put her down, and she was surprised to find that the water came up to her shoulders. Her toes just barely grazed the bottom, and the current was calm, the water warm.

Dimitri looked proud of her, amused, and smug at the same time, if that was possible. "See?"

Smiling a bit to herself, Anya nodded, letting herself float a little. "It's not bad," she had to agree.

"Say it."

Knowingly, her blue eyes narrowed and bore into his. "No."

"Say it...."

"Not a chance!"

"I can swim back and leave you out here," he laughed.

"I'm not saying it."

"'Papa,'" he mocked, "'don't let them take me'...."

"All right!" Anya smacked the water and sent a giant splash into his face. "You were right. There. Happy?"

Wiping the water from his eyes, Dimitri gave her that 'I win' look again. "Yeah, I'm good." After that victory, he looked her over. "Are you gonna move some time today?"

"Huh?"

"You're floating. That's only half the point." He treaded water a bit and circled around her, and she spun around, keeping her eyes on him. "Swim," he instructed.

Her hands were on her hips, even though nobody could tell. "Were you raised by fish or something?"

"Can you swim at _all_?" he countered.

"_Yes_," Anya defended. "In a pool."

"Trust me. Every summer back in St. Petersburg, me and Vlad would spend the hottest days at the river. That water moved _way_ faster than _this_, and _you_ didn't even have to suffer the sight of Vlad in a bathing suit. It's not that bad."

Anya listened to what he said, beginning to take the idea seriously. She didn't know a way to say it without sounding like a little girl, but she did anyway. "Will you be right there with me?"

"Yes. I promise."

"The whole time?"

"The whole time."

"Well." She batted her hair out of her eyes, and smiled. "All right. Race you?"

Dimitri gave her a questioning look. "You sure you're up to that?"

"I didn't say I wasn't _good_," Anya shot back with a grin, and with that, she swam into the waves, managing the water's movement better than she anticipated.

Dimitri splashed up behind her, and with that they were off, competeing with the dolphins for the perfect wave, laughing and shouting until a small boat pulled up alongside them.

"Hey! You there!"

Both of them looked up. To their surprise, the side of the boat read 'Coast Guard.'

"This is no-swimming territory! I'm going to have to ask you to return to public shore at once!"

This time it was Anya who gave the smug, 'I win' look. "Now what, maestro? Great plan by the way."

Dimitri could only sigh, listening to a chorus of "Say it" all the way back to shore.

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**Who wins now, pal? XD Okay, after a decidedly sucky hiatus there's the Australia one (and just for fun go listen to Australia by the Shins, which has nothing to do with Australia at all). Soon I'll be adding more European locations, and my updates will be closer together from now on, I promise! 'K, now it's **_**your**_** turn to type for a while. Review please. :) **

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	9. The Ballad Of John And Yoko

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**I've gotta say, these are probably the easiest and most fun ones to write that I've ever done. For the zillionth time, special thanks go out to britney628 and DimitrisDuchess for being the only ones to feed my review addiction. XD (I try to put at least one of those per story, 'cause hey: if we don't, who will?) Bientôt je vais devoir trouver une nouvelle façon de dire que...peut-être dans une différente langue la fois suivante. (Copy that into an online French-English translator if you're that curious.) **

**Anyway. They're in Northampton, England now, which is right in the middle of England; a bit north of London. (I would've done London itself but it's too common. You think England, you think London.) The title of this chapter is also a Beatles song, because I love the Beatles, and it fits, and they're in England...ha ha. You get it. Takes place 1932. Remember whether I mention him or not, Pooka's been there for all of these locations.... Read & Review. Enjoy.**

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"'S'is the place?"

"Yeah, thanks." Anya leaned forward in her seat and handed the cab driver his money as Dimitri got out and headed for the trunk. The rain was coming down hard, and she pulled her jacket up over her head before she opened the door to follow him.

She made sure Pooka hopped out before slamming the door, then went around to help with the luggage before the trunk became a swimming pool.

"I've got it," Dimitri tried. His hair was already plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked, which was exactly what he got for not wearing a coat. Served him right---it was her suggestion.

Anya grabbed a suitcase anyway. "No you don't."

"Why is it the rain in London is wetter than rain anywhere else?"

"We're not _in_ London."

Dimittri rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's British."

"I don't think British weather has anything against you," Anya assured, slamming the trunk closed. At that, the cab driver drove off, and sent up a tidal wave of rainwater from the gutter.

Anya looked at her skirt, mentally adding it to the list of things they owned that were now completely soaked. "Great. Perfect."

"So. Do we get inside or do we build an ark?" He tilted his head toward the building.

"Well, as partial as I am to the ark idea..." All of a sudden Anya turned and ran for the door, shouting "Race ya!" over her shoulder.

"Hey!" Dimitri sprinted after her, which was not easy with three suitcases to deal with. They were both laughing by the time he caught her.

It was an interesting sight watching them try to shove each other out of the way and make it through the door, especially since it was a _revolving_ door and they were both blocked by luggage. Eventually they both crashed into the building, laughing and drenched and landing in a heap on the floor. The bellhop stared at them as if they were both medically out of their minds, but they didn't care. The verdict was still out on that one.

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"Hey. What're these?"

He stopped ruffling though his hair with the towel and picked up one of the records from the suitcase he'd been unpacking. It was a strange find, considering they didn't o_wn_ any.

Anya came out of the bathroom in a new, dry dress, and looked at what he was talking about. "Records, I guess," she answered matter-of-factly.

Dimitri gave her a 'no, _really?_' look. "Oh, well _thank_ you, your grace---I would never have had a _clue_," he sighed sarcastically. "I _mean_, why were they in our _suitcase_."

Anya crossed the rug and flipped through the stack of vinyl sleeves. She recognized most of the artists. "These are Sophie's. We must have packed them by accident."

Dimitri glanced around the room. He found what he was looking for on the desk by the window. "Well," he said, spreading the stack out on the bed, "we might as well put them to good use. Pick one."

Anya smiled. She knew what he was doing, and she played along, shutting her eyes and tapping one of the records at random. When she opened them, she picked the selection up---Kay Kyser, one of Sophie's favorites---and handed it to him.

"Not bad." Slipping the album out of its case, he took it to the record player by the window. There was a pause, a low screech from the needle, and the room filled with the gentle swing of Kay Kyser and the band.

"Remember the boat?" he asked with a smile, taking her hand.

She put her other hand on his shoulder and glanced upward, pretending to think it over. "Right---so who was teaching who again?"

He laughed. Slowly, getting their footing, they began a decent waltz around the room.

"You're getting better," Anya observed.

"Must be all those lessons," Dimitri joked in return, and she laughed. After a moment, she grabbed both ends of the towel around his neck and pulled his head toward hers until they were nose-to-nose.

"You," she told him softly, "are a _terrible_ liar." Tilting her head to the side, she kissed him, pulling away only when she had to breathe again.

"You know," he pointed out after that, "it's almost strange _not_ to be interrupted by the mutt."

Anya laughed again, but then she thought of something, and she turned around, scanning the floor. "Where _is_ Pooka, anyway?"

"Beats me." _Somehow, it always comes back to that dog. Forget the dog for two seconds._

"Pooka? Pooka! Here boy!" Before she knew it Anya was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed, looking out the door into the hall, even scouring through the contents of the open suitcase. Nothing. "Pooka! C'mon boy!"

She knew her dog, and if Pooka had heard her calling, he would've been there by now. She was sure of it. Turning to Dimitri with a shrug and more concern than most would have, she stated, "He's not here."

"Relax. He's probably just outside destroying the flowerbed. Or playing with some kid, or chasing a squirrell, or doing whatever _else_ he does." Dimitri was always good at comforting her, but this time it was a lot harder---how was he supposed to find something good to say about the _mutt_?

Anya shook her head. "I have to find him."

Sighing, she could tell the guy in front of her didn't think of that as a 'fun' way to spend a trip to Britain. Still, he was on board---he _had_ to be. It was part of the whole 'married' deal. "_We'll_ find him," he corrected.

"Really?"

"Really. Get a coat---let's go before I come to my senses, shall we?"

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Asking locals if they'd seen a small, rambunctious grey dog had a funny way of leading a person in circles. They got a series of vague answers that led from the doorman at the hotel all the way up to Northampton's upper border. "He went that way." "Ask this guy." "Ask that guy." "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." _Oy._

They finally got a sufficient answer at a train station, which, by the way, is the _last_ place you'd hope to find a sufficient answer.

"Yeah, sure," a coal-streaked worker was saying. "I saw a pup just like that. Wasn't he part of the live cargo to St. Petersburg? It just shipped off a few hours ago."

Both their eyes went wide. Anya looked at Dimitri. Dimitri looked at Anya.

"No."

The worker just laughed.

"He is now."

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**Oohhhh! You know where they're headed next! I know I said they wouldn't go back to St. Petersburg, and I meant that, but I meant they wouldn't **_**live**_** there. They would go back briefly---once, and only once. Crazy dog wandered off, got distracted, and ended up as cargo. He sure is good at making trouble! ;D Stay tuned, and aw, come on, you know how fun it is to get reviews....**


	10. Back In The USSR

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**All right, this is a rare move, but this oneshot takes place right after the last one, The Ballad Of John And Yoko, because of the ending it had. So obviously this is also 1932, and obviously they're now in St. Peterburg. Given the chapter connection, I figured it was appropriate to also give this chapter the name of a Beatles song. (Come on---it was **_**begging**_** for it. How could I **_**not**_**.) Here ya go!**

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Dimitri could've thought of a lot of excuses not to go back. For instance, number one would've been, "I don't wanna look for the mutt in Russia." Number two would have to be "I don't wanna look for the mutt in Russia," followed closely by "I don't wanna look for the mutt in Russia," coming in at number three.

He shocked himself with stupidity, though, taking the gentleman route and insisting he'd go back alone.

_That_ went over well.

"Ha!" Anya had said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that's so sweet of you to offer, and I know it might not be the best idea for me to go back there, but I'm the only one who could find him. I know I can."

And he knew she could. It would be tricky to pull off, but in a lot of ways it would be easier to accomplish together. So here they were. Back in St. Petersburg. The place, it turns out, where there would always be a rumor.

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On the edge of town, the only thing occupying the flat, bare land was a scattering of noisy industrial plants, chugging black smoke into the sky. Just beyond that was the train depot, near which a small cluster of old women stood, baskets in hand, gabbing about whatever monarchist myth they'd been slipped that morning.

"Well. _I_ heard that the girl they found in '26 was never her at all. Turned out to be some imposter trained by that young rogue and the imperialist---I can never remember their names. The Dowager Empress was so mad when she found out, she recinded the reward and put the fraud out on the streets!"

"You don't say---_I_ always thought that it _was_ her, but they say she went into hiding in Poland."

The ladies didn't notice the blue-eyed young blonde woman coming up behind them, and she had to speak up to make her way through. "Excuse me."

"Oh, not at all, dear. Don't mind us. So, what about you, Irina?"

The man in the cap with the mustache didn't have to say anything to get by; he just slipped through the gap left by the blonde.

"I always assumed the rumor was true, that she and that servant boy eloped that night."

"Oh, don't be _silly_," the elder of the women scoffed. "If Anastasia _were_ married it _definitely_ wouldn't have been like _that_. Or to _him_."

The women heard something then from the man who'd just passed, and it sounded a lot like an offended "Hey!"

Startled, they turned to face him, and the blonde was making an effort to shut him up. She looked familiar.

"Excuse me, miss!" the elder of the women called. "Could you come here please?"

Slowly, she approached them, and the guy with the mustache followed her for some reason.

The old woman looked her up and down. "You look so much like one of my comerade's nieces.... What is your name?"

"Helga," the blonde answered, not missing a beat. But she wasn't looking at them. "Helga VonSchmidt, ma'am."

"And you?" the old woman asked, looking toward the man. She caught him off guard.

"Uh, Rolfe. Rolfe VonSchmidt. We're just in from Germany." His smile was no more genuine than a seven-dollar bill, but twice as convincing.

"Huh. Well." The old woman gave them one more glance. "Welcome to Russia." That could've been a greeting or a warning, but you'd never know. All three old women gave up on the coversation and started off toward their respective homes.

The man and the blonde turned away, too, and continued down the road.

"What was _that_?" she hissed.

"Sorry, _Mrs. VonSchmidt_, I guess we all can't keep our cool like some people."

"Getting offended over some stupid rumor," she mused, shaking her head. "What---you couldn't manage to just scream 'Romanov?'"

"Hey, I'm here to _keep_ you from getting caught, okay?" He changed the subject. "Red."

_What?_ "What?" Suddenly she looked around, half expecting to see some kind of officer behind her.

"No no no, red _hair_," he clarified. He pointed to a loose strand trailing on her forehead.

"Oh." Anya reached up and swept the half-curled piece back under the wig. "Loading platform?"

"Loading platform."

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They got there as quickly as possible. No staying anywhere. No sightseeing. No looking up when they passed a palace or a theater or a cathedral.

They'd seen enough.

"Pooka?" Anya whispered, creeping around the back ends of trucks and crates the size of houses. "Pooka? Here boy!"

"We're not in a Sherlock Holmes novel, you know," Dimitri pointed out with an eye-roll to go with it. "We may be under an alias, here, but we can still walk upright."

Anya stayed crouched behind a truck. "Not if we plan to add 'animal smuggler' to our resumés."

With a sigh, he joined her at ground level, and adjusted the fake mustache. "Man, this thing itches."

"You could've grown a _real_ one, you know."

His first reflex was to deliver a good comeback, but he stopped when he realized he didn't _have_ one, on account of she was right. Again. Dang it.

"God, there are so many shipments around here. How am I possibly going to find...?"

As she spoke, Anya's eyes landed on a wooden crate about twenty yards off. The front was slattted with air holes. It was just big enough.

"Dimitri!" She grabbed his arm. "Over there!" _We're coming, Pooka. Hang on, boy._

He saw. "So how do you expect to...?"

He let the sentence fade away, because she was looking at him, and she was giving him the look. _The_ look. The Romanov eyes. The 'puppy' eyes.

"Uh-uh. No, no, _not_ me, _no_ way, I am _not_...doing...whatever it is you're thinking. Not a chance."

"Please? I just need two minutes. Distract them."

She added a little smile to the look, and, well, there you go. Dimitri was completely disarmed. "Fine," he grumbled. "Fine. Just get in, grab the dog, and get out."

Sighing---still---Dimitri stood up, brushed off his coat, and strode toward the burly-looking men at the cargo checkpoint. He put on an expression of total confidence, and in return they gave him one of complete contempt. The kind you give a theif, or maybe a dead bug.

He gulped. "Good, uh, good afternoon, gentlemen."

"Name?" The bald one glanced down a clipboard of appointments and checklists. Dimitri knew that somewhere over his shoulder, Anya was slinking toward the cargo.

"Rolfe VonSchmidt," he replied, remembering right away this time. He gave them his usual 'buissines' smile and offered a hand. Neither one shook it, and he let it drop back to his side, deflated.

At least all this trouble meant they'd never notice the girl prying open a crate behind them, using both feet and a crowbar.

"You don't _look_ German," one of the men said suspiciously.

Dimitri decided this would be a good time to see if they could take a joke. "And you two don't look friendly---but hey, appearances can be decieving, right?" he grinned.

Nobody laughed. The grin faded.

"What is your business here?"

"Well, actually..." _Come on. Smooth-talk time. Just like in the square._ "I was looking for someone, and I thought, what better than you two fine gentlemen to point me in the right direction. After all, you must be _experts_ in these parts."

"Well...." The bald one stood up a little straighter, an obvious sucker for flattery. "We are the supervisors for the deliveries in this region, yes. Uh, who were you looking for?"

Dimitri smiled, but only in his head. "My aunt. Leisl. Leisl VonSchmidt."

"I don't know anyone of that name right now, but if you say she's here, I could check for you later..."

"Got a pencil?"

"Sure." The second guy extracted one from his pocket, poising it over his clipboard.

"Okay..." Dimitri saw Anya waving frantically to him from the corner of his eye. She held a small, grey bundle in her arms. "And how that's spelled again is L, E, I, S.... bye!"

Turning on a dime, he ran as fast as he could toward Anya, and when he caught up to her, they both ran for the back of the next train, already chugging away. Behind them, the two giants were shouting and chasing after them.

The train was slowly picking up speed. "Come on!" Dimitri yelled over the noise. "We can make it!"

Sprinting and nervous, Anya clamped her spare hand down on the wig to keep it from flying off. "This didn't turn out so well the last time!" she pointed out.

"Just trust me!"

Another burst of speed, and they were practically on top of the train's bumper. Dimitri grabbed on to the railing, got a foot up, and pulled himself onboard. He reached back out, and accepted the mutt he was handed, plopping Pooka onto the train as well.

Anya was still running down the track. Leaning over the railing, Dimitri stretched his arm out and she grabbed his hand, struggling to stay caught up. All she could think about was what happened in 1916.

"Don't let go!"

"I'm not letting go. I've got you," Dimitri shouted. Locking his foot under the railing for balance, he tightened his grip on her hand, and gave her the other one. They gave it everything they had, and in seconds, Anya had a foot on the train. Then both feet. Then she was onboard.

They both turned to watch the last of St. Petersburg, plus the two angry cargo guys, fade away into the distance.

"Thank you," Anya told him, and she meant it. For everything.

Dimitri just smiled, bending down, he picked up a squirmy grey furball from the floor. "I believe this belongs to you?"

She took Pooka in her arms, and he instantly went about slurping up her face. She laughed. "Pooka, you little troublemaker. That's the last time _you_ wander off anywhere but Paris!"

Dimitri watched the little reunion, then turned to the retreating view of the city. "You know what?"

Anya smiled up at him, gratitude in her eyes, and trust, and something else, too. "What?"

He pointed a thumb toward their last view of Russia. "I _still_ don't miss it. I think I may even prefer your talking."

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**Heh! This one was so much fun for me. Lots of hints to the movie in there. I certainly hope everybody loved it like I did---of course, I'll never know unless you click the happy 'review' button and tell me....;D**


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